


I Stare Into the Fire (It Signifies My Desire)

by laudatenium



Series: I'm Burnin' (For You) [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Wildfire, Burns, Firefighter Steve, Hurt Tony, M/M, September 11 Attacks, Wildfires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-25 02:39:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2605550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laudatenium/pseuds/laudatenium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They keep telling Tony to evacuate.  The smoke's too thick, he'll suffocate.</p><p>But who's gonna force him to leave?  Not the fire captain, no sir.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Stare Into the Fire (It Signifies My Desire)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from “Fiery Love” by Arti Chopra.
> 
> One of my favorite AU occupations for Steve is for him to be a firefighter, and it usually involves him saving Tony from a fire or something in New York. But Tony canonically prefers to live in California, so I wondered how that would work. But I was researching California wildfires, and inspiration struck. Guys, there was literally a fire in June 2014 called the Stony Fire, in Monterrey County. (There was also one called the Banner Fire.) I could not make this up.
> 
> In this AU, Tony lives for the majority of the time in Malibu, but has a secret home in the foothills of the mountains south of Sequoia National Forest, east of Bakersfield (He prefers it there in many ways). The area is prone to frequent wildfires in the summer. Tony, being the kind of person he is, is resistant to follow advice when he’s told to evacuate. Until, some fire captain forces him.

 

Everyone is telling him he’s an idiot, he’s not as invincible as he thinks, and because of that, he’s going to die.

 

He’s had untold numbers of volunteer firefighters warning him to evacuate. Pepper had called screaming and crying multiple times, telling him he needs to get back to Malibu _right now_.

 

But never let it be said that Tony Stark runs from a problem. And it’s not like the fires are going to burn him alive.  His house in the mountains is too far up a rocky slope for him to be in any danger from the flames.

 

And it’s not like he’s here for the “clear mountain air to clear his mind” as he says in press conferences. Especially this time of year, with the air so filled with smoke.  Every time he goes outside, he gets soot in his mouth, his eyes, his hair.

 

(Something that he’ll never say is how the big empty house in Malibu nowadays feels much emptier than the still-pretty-big-but-a-lot-more-personal house in the mountains.)

 

Anyway, _Pepper_ , he’s trying to help.  It’s not as though he wants to see Sequoia National Forest burn away.  Okay, he’s not out here actually to physically fight the fire, but it’s not like he knows how.  What he does know is engineering.  And all their raw muscle couldn’t hold a candle to Tony’s amazing brain.  He’s trying to figure out a more efficient solution.

 

And if there is something vaguely satisfying about staring out of the panoramic window in his bedroom and watching the valley burn and throw shadows on the mountains and send the massive clouds of glittering smoke up to mingle with the stars, well, no one needs to know.

 

It feels right appropriate for him, somehow.

 

 

 

AC/DC cuts out as JARVIS informs him “ _Sir, Colonel Rhodes is calling._ ”

 

Tony pulled his head out of his latest project. “Patch ‘em through, J,” he spits around a mouth full of wires. 

 

 _“Tony,”_ a disapproving voice comes from the ceiling, _“What the HELL are you thinking? No, don’t even try to explain, I don’t wanna hear your bullshit.  Pepper’s called me like a million times telling me you’re in the mountains, the fires are getting really bad, they’ve told you to evacuate, and you haven’t.  I’m giving you twelve hours before I take a jet up there and forcibly remove your dumb ass from the area.”_

“Ah, Rhodey my love, how are you on this fine day? How are the jets working?”

 

_“CUT THE CRAP. You’re being a stubborn IDIOT-“_

“But Rhodey, I like it up here. I can explode things without TMZ thinking it’s some sort of orgy.  Anyhow, I’m working on _stopping_ the fires.”

 

 _“Oh?”_   Rhodey sounded interested in spite of himself.

 

Rhodey hadn’t been very happy with Tony’s decision to stop producing weaponry after some investigative reporter had revealed Obadiah’s smuggling, but he had understood and supported Tony anyway. (Tony repaid him by “revising” the proposed designs that landed on Rhodey’s desk.)  One of Tony’s main regrets about leaving the weapons industry was that SI no longer needed Rhodey as a full-time liaison.  That meant that now they didn’t get to see each other as often as best friends should.   So now whenever Tony told him about an innovation that might hold the military’s interest, Rhodey got a little excited.

 

“Alright, I don’t know how familiar you are with wildfire fighting techniques, but one of the big ones is picking up big buckets of water from a nearby lake or the ocean, and flying the water to the hotspots and pouring it. They’re called Bambi buckets, kapiesh?”

 

_“Pretty morbid name.”_

 

“I know. I guess it was easier to say than Bambi’s mom. Well, Bambi buckets aren’t very efficient, not for the time and effort invested with them, and they very rarely actually put the fire out.  Sometimes they use fire retardants with ammonium, but the application process is still expensive and pretty slow going.”

 

_“Go on.”_

 

Tony grinned. Rhodey might deny the inner nerd, but Tony reveled in forcing it out.  “Well, Bruce and I devised a new retardant earlier in the summer; it pulls in oxygen long enough for the fire to be smothered.  Now all that needed is a better aerial delivery and distribution system.  That’s what I’m working on.”

 

_“You couldn’t work on this in a safer location, say, um, Malibu?”_

“It kinda puts you under the gun when you see the fire lines about a mile away.”

 

Rhodey sighed in a rush of static. _“Pepper’s up my ass, and seeing as she’s not there, she’s trying to get me to convince you to evacuate.”_

“I like it here, it’s-“

 

 _“Lonely?”_ Tony didn’t answer. _“Look, I know you and Pepper breaking up was for the best, but you’re not the type that can handle being alone forever.”_

 

“Rhodey, I can have whoever I want-“

 

_“That’s not what I mean and you know it. You’ve never had anyone besides me, Pepper, Bruce, and Happy up to the mountain house.  And, well, we’re worried about you.”_

 

JARVIS decided at that moment to pipe up “ _Sir, another fire worker is requesting access to the house, and is insisting your imminent evacuation.”_

_“Tony, listen to the man. You staying up there isn’t helping anyone.”_

_“Sir, I am inclined to agree with Colonel Rhodes, and as my programming dictates that I try to insure your well-being first and foremost, I also suggest you cooperate with the fire captain.”_

 

Huh. “They sent a captain this time?  Not just the guy with the clipboard?”

 

_“Tony, you might not think it’s serious-“_

“Of course I think it’s serious! Can you see the flames?  ‘Cause I can-“

 

_“These people are only interested in getting you to safety. You resisting is probably wasting valuable man hours that could be better used to combat the fires.”_

_“Sir, the captain is threatening to force entry.”_

“He can’t do that, can he? What the hell is the saying?”

 

The cool interface of JARVIS and the dull scream of jet engines from Rhodey are joined by the sound of hard banging on wood. _“Sir, we know you’re in there. Open up, unless you want me to break down the door.  We need to get you out of here.”_

Tony sighed. “What is it with people and the royal ‘we’? Let him in J.”

 

 _“I’m gonna take that as a cue to shut up. Tony, do what the man says.  You’re not indispensable to some of us.”_ Rhodey’s line went dead.

 

“Is that his way of saying he loves me? Great delivery.  Not even a goodbye, or his promise undying devotion.”

 

_“Sir, analysis says if you were to perish, Colonel Rhodes, Miss Potts, and Dr. Banner would all grieve terribly at your loss. The captain is questioning me as to your whereabouts.  Should I direct him to the lab?”_

“Sure.” Tony said absently as sat back on his stool and began fiddling with some wires while he watched the door.

 

It didn’t take long for the guy to arrive. The door slid open admitting, _hello_ , a man with shoulders so broad they somehow made the lumpy fire resistant uniform give off sex appeal like an impeccably tailored suit.  He had obviously ditched some of his equipment upstairs somewhere, and the skin on his chiseled face was stained with soot.

 

His hair was clean (probably due to a helmet) and a soft, sunshiny blond that was rarely seen outside of small children (nothing like the dye jobs so often seen at society events), and cut in an old-timey flop. His eyes were a soft blue that simultaneously reminded Tony of ice and summer skies.  His skin was red from the heat, but he was probably pretty pale otherwise.

 

Tony vaguely wonders if he blushes (the guy looks like the kind that would blush), and how far down it would go. He needs to know if the Sequoia National Forest makes a wildfirefighter calendar.

 

The guy looks like he’s about to start barking orders, but he catches sight of Tony and his eyes widen a bit and he closes his mouth. He opens it and closes it again, looking like a very handsome fish.

 

“Cat got you tongue, Captain? Why don’t you let me play with it instead?”  Tony simpers with a ridiculous flutter of his eyelashes, rocking the grease-and-welding-goggles look.

 

The man turns a slightly darker shade of crimson (Tony was right, as usual) and manages “You’re Tony Stark.”

 

“The one and only, baby,” Tony says with a spread of his arms, which throws off his balance and he half falls off his stool.  “What’s your name, gorgeous?”

 

The guy stops smirking from Tony’s (totally intentional!) fumble, and puts on a business face. “Captain Steve Rogers, of Crew 91, and Mr. Stark, you’ve been warned to evacuate three times in person, and seven times over the phone, and you have yet to answer . . . until now.”  Steve looks like he didn’t think he would get this far.

 

“JARVIS made me let you in.”

 

“There’s someone else here?” Steve looked pained.

 

“Nope, just my AI. Say hi, J.”

 

_“Thank you for your help with Sir, Captain.”_

Steve jumped at the voice coming from the ceiling. “Jesus.  I thought that was just someone on an intercom.  You’re saying that it’s an artificial intelligence system?”

 

“Yup, the future is now and all that sci-fi shit. Impressive?”  Steve looked both scared and interested, so Tony counted it as a win.  “Now, you’re wasting your time, I’m not leaving.”

 

Steve’s jaw set in a hard line, and whoa, easy there. Not the time for awkward boners.  “Mr. Stark, I must insist-“

 

“What’ll you do, make me? ‘Cause I’d kinda like you to make me.” Tony gives his best leer.

 

Whatever possible star-struckedness that Steve might have had is gone, and now he’s showing his true colors as a stubborn ass like all the best people. “Mr. Stark-“

 

“Tony.”

 

“You’re going to suffocate from smoke inhalation.”

 

“I’ll be fine, I’ve got an air filtration system-“

 

The walkie-talkie on Steve’s hip (they still make those?) squawks and he unhooks it from his belt. “Yeah, Clint?”

 

_“D’you get the guy?”_

“Yup, tell Fury we’re headed out now.” Steve gives Tony a look that dares him to argue.

 

 _“Okay, Rogers that.”_ Steve sighs as he silences Clint’s wave of giggles.

 

“The fires are too close to the road for me to let you, in good conscience, drive yourself. Too risky.  Need anything?  We need to get going.”

 

 

 

 

After Tony assures A) himself that yes, all his work is saved on JARVIS’s system out in Malibu, and B) Steve that no, he doesn’t need to worry about taking anything else, Steve frog-marches Tony upstairs to the foyer.

 

Steve’s helmet and oxygen tank were dumped on the polished sandalwood floor, along with an emergency oxygen tank and first aid kit. He scooped the equipment up like it weighs nothing and marches outside, Tony trailing behind, pulling on a windbreaker and trying to catch a glimpse Steve’s ass in his saggy coveralls.

 

The fires were closer than they had been this morning, and Tony could see some tiny figures running around a little distance from the fire away, trying to set up a control line. He muffled a cough in his fist.

 

“That your team?”

 

Steve glanced over to where Tony was gesturing. His jaw was tense again, and really, Tony did not need to be having these kids of reactions to someone’s _fucking jaw_.  “Yeah.  I wouldn’t worry though.  We do this for a living.  We’re all a bunch of risk taking, foolhardy idiots, but we’re not completely stupid.”

 

“Are _you_ prone to taking risks, _Captain_?”

 

“I came up here to get you, didn’t I?”

 

Tony couldn’t help himself. “And have you won the title of ‘foolhardy idiot’?”

 

Steve glanced over his shoulder  with a positively _indecent_ look on his face that made Tony feel like he was being stripped of everything, clothing included.  “There would not be a group of foolhardy idiots without their captain being the biggest of them all.”

 

Tony couldn’t get it out of his head that Steve wasn’t talking about just taking risks with fires. He was feeling himself heat up in a way that had nothing to do with the rolling waves coming from the fires.

 

There was soot covering the white pickup, but Tony could still make out the writing on the side.

 

“Sequoia National Forest Tree Service?”

 

“I commandeered it,” Steve muttered unashamedly as he dumped his tanks in the bed of the truck.

 

Tony was about to call him out on it, but Steve then took off his jacket.

 

He was wearing a dark blue t-shirt with his crew’s crest on his left magnificent pec. There were dark stains around his armpits and up the line of his spine, and drops of sweat were sliding down his face.  He wiped the back of a hand through this floppy hair, and pulled a water bottle from the cab.  He met Tony’s gaze as he took a long pull from it, a saint’s icon glittering ironically on the neck of the positively _sinful_ image that he was making.  He grinned as he put it down in the foot well, and deliberately hitched up his suspenders so when he climbed in the driver’s seat, Tony could see the curve of an ass he could write sonnets about.

 

"Coming?”

 

“Uh, duh.” Tony manages before clambering into the shotgun side.

 

 

 

It was worse than what Tony had seen from the house. He probably wouldn’t have gotten burned there, but he wouldn’t have been able to leave anytime soon.  The tree line on one side of the road is only about a tree deep from the fire line, making the ancient pines look like black cutouts in front of a fire backdrop.  The grassy embankment between the tree line and the road hasn’t caught yet, but it smolders in places, and burns meekly where some of the pines have toppled.  The asphalt seems to be melting in places, and Tony can tell that, had Steve waited another half hour, the road would have been burning.  Tony’s entire left side is about twelve degrees hotter than the right, and that’s with the wind currently blowing the smoke and flames in the opposite direction.  But the winds change quickly, and, when the wind finally shifts, they’ll be engulfed.

 

But despite the literal inferno raging outside the truck, Tony can’t keep his eyes off Steve. Tony supposes it might be one of those oh-god-I-think-I’m-gonna-die-fuck-my-brains-out attractions, because Steve seems like the kind of guy who wouldn't be interested a guy like Tony.  He’s better off without a guy like Tony.  But Tony was pretty knowledgeable about when people wanted _Tony_ , or when people wanted _Tony Stark_.  And Steve, for some ungodly reason, seemed interested in _Tony_.

 

Tony tried to glance surreptitiously over at Steve, but Steve was focused on the road, making sure to give any fallen trees a wide berth. With the fires outlining him through the window, Steve looked like some sort of avenging angel, bent on seeking justice for those he couldn’t save.  They were both sweating profusely, but it made Steve look more like a poster for an action movie, rather than the image of a drowned rat that Tony was sure he was probably evoking.  Tiny sweat rivulets had run through the soot on Steve’s face and gathered at his throat, staining the area beneath the necklace almost black.  It only served as to make Steve look _even more_ like a porn star, and the moisture made the medallion glitter in the light of the flames.

 

“Is that some sort of saint’s necklace?”

 

Steve kept his eyes on the smoldering road as he nodded. “Saint Florian.”

 

“Looks like something my mother would wear. She was . . . pretty religious.”

 

Steve’s eyes darted over to him for a second. “You Catholic?”

 

Tony went back to trying to pick the lock on the glove box. “Raised.  My parents’ marriage fell apart just as soon as they walked down the aisle.  But back then divorce wasn’t as common, and combining my father’s position in society with my mother’s devoutness, they wouldn’t have gotten one anyway.  She was pretty obsessive, and unhappy, so it’s never left the best taste in my mouth.”

 

Steve was quiet for a moment. “Is it an issue you have with the church, or is it just from personal experience?”

 

Tony shrugged. “I mean, for the most part it’s pretty good, taking away the corruption and abuse and intolerance of some people, you know, love and forgiveness and charity and all that shit.  Religion’s just not for me.  Scientist who’s seen the crap people go through, and all that jazz.”

 

Steve, bless him, didn’t press further, so Tony decided to just keep running his mouth.

 

“When I was little, I had one of those, for Saint Anthony. Mother gave it to me as a sort of amulet for protection, but it never really worked, far as I can tell.  Lost it years ago, but I was named after him, and, well.”  He finally ran out of steam.

 

“Saint Anthony of Padua?”

 

“Yeah, my mother’s parents were from Venice, and Padua is like fifteen minutes away. Local favorite, and all that.”

 

“Patron of the lost.” Steve met Tony’s stare, and again it felt like he was reading every decision of Tony’s life, completely non-judgmental, but it still made Tony uneasy that someone _knew_.

 

Tony cleared this throat, and the moment was lost. Steve turned back to the road as Tony asked “So, what’s Florian patron saint of?”

 

“See for yourself.” Steve unclasped the necklace with a practiced hand and poured it into Tony’s waiting palm. 

 

The gold medallion wasn’t necessarily the highest quality, maybe 12 karat max. Tony’s causal cufflinks were better.  The medallion was slightly damp, and well worn; Steve had obviously had had it for years.  It was in the shape of the traditional equal armed cross that every fire protection group seemed to use a variation of.  The top read “FIRE” and the bottom “DEPT.”, with a ladder on the left and a fire hydrant on the right.  In the center was a circle with a guy, lucky guess pegged him as St. Florian, holding a shield with a cross on it, with “ST. FLORIAN PROTECTER OF FIREFIGHTERS” surrounding him.

 

“Why do they always use this cross shape?”

 

Steve snorted, eyes still on the road. “ ‘Cause it’s _Saint Florian’s Cross_?”

 

“Okay, smartass. Where’d you get it?”  Tony asked as he passed it back.

 

“My mother. She was pretty religious, too.  But we’re that Irish Catholic immigrant kind of family, so it's to be expected, and when we get into a certain profession, we tend to find the appropriate saints.  My father died rescuing a family from a burning building when I was a couple months old, and this was his.  When I graduated from the Fire Academy, she gave it to me.  She died three weeks later.”

 

Tony muttered “Sorry,” knowing how pathetic it sounded. No one was really ever _sorry_ that you lost a parent.

 

It was Steve’s turn to shrug. “It happens.  She was a nurse, would’ve caught something eventually.  I’m not too distressed about it.  It’s was their decisions as to what to do with their lives.  And public service kinda runs in the blood.”

 

“But a having a family public service isn’t that common out west. Is people in the east who have their family branch of service and whatnot.”

 

Steve grinned. “Do I seem like I’m from here?”

 

 “You don’t sound like you’re from around here”

 

“That’s ‘cause I’m not. Brooklyn born and raised, baby,” Steve stressed the drawl.

 

Oh, Tony’s dick really needed to learn some self control regarding this guy. “You used to be a firefighter in New York?  Does that mean if I looked up the old NY firefighter’s calendars, I would find you?”

 

Steve visibly turned a darker shade of red, and considering the fire, made Tony feel like a fucking _god_.  “They offered, but, um, no.”

 

“But Steve, you’re depriving the good people of America of dat ass. You could have raised so much money for puppies, or hobos, or hobo puppies-“

 

Steve laughed, a big, bright sound that warmed Tony straight to the core. Man, Steve was going to make him overheat.  More so than he already was.  “Sorry, but I’m kind of a one-ass guy.”

 

“You want one ass, or want only one person to see your ass?”

 

“Both.” There was that tension again, like Steve was daring Tony to do something.  Tony was silent before clearing his throat and asking, in a raw voice:

 

“So, what made you move out here?”

 

Steve somehow was able to recover from these moments, and it was pissing Tony off. _He_ was the one who left people flustered, _he_ should not be left the flust-ee.  “Multiple reasons.  I love New York, but after my mom died, the only thing keeping me there were my friends.  We were all in the same ladder, and after Sam’s granny died, none of us had anyone but our little group, and we decided it would be good to move as a unit, and find a new start together.”

 

Tony ruminated on that before asking in a tiny voice: “What made you pick here?”

 

“I’m an artist.” Steve didn’t even let Tony respond.  “Don’t laugh.  I am a man of many talents.”

 

Tony snorted, feeling rueful somehow. “You and me both.”

 

Steve had obviously decided he could trust Tony with his life story, and plowed on like nothing had happened. “We thought being a wildfirefighting crew in a national park would be just the right flavor.  I liked the idea of drawing something other than cityscapes, we all are pretty apricative of the outdoors and when we went on camping trips it would take longer to get out of the city than we would have in the woods, Bucky was really having a really hard time adjusting after he lost his arm while he was held captive in Iraq, and, well, we all felt a change of scenery after 9/11 would be . . . nice.”

 

Tony started. “You guys were first responders?”

 

Steve smiled, but there was a hard, haunted look in his eyes. “Yeah.  Forgive me, but I was a little offended that you didn’t recognize me.”

 

He remembered that day. He’d had a meeting in the North Tower, and if it hadn’t been for Pepper’s insistence that they took the stairs for the exercise, they would have been in the elevator when American Airlines Flight 11’s jet fuel made the elevator shafts burning infernos.  The memories were both vivid and hazy, of pulling Pepper back down the stairwell with broken heels over shattered glass with people alternating between standing dazed and screaming for no reason.  He’d been wearing a dark blue Armani suit, and had unceremoniously ripped it to pieces so people wouldn’t need to breathe in the powdered drywall and glass dust.  He remembered the firefighters jogging up the stairs with calm efficiency or directing them down the stairs in as orderly a fashion as possible.  The impact of the second plane made Tony slip, and he’d shattered a knee cap.  Pepper and others had tried to help, but they’d been gently but firmly told to continue to evacuate to prevent a backup.  Pepper had been about to scream at the man, but he had effortlessly slung Tony over a shoulder and had lent an arm for Pepper as they made their way down the stairs.

 

The sun had been obscured by smoke and dust by the time they had gotten outside, with shafts of harsh September sun cutting through to illuminate the horrors. The nameless firefighter had made sure they got oxygen before he went back up.  They had sat listening to the screams of the people who had jumped and the dull smacks they made when they hit the ground.

 

Happy had pulled the limo through, and after getting Tony propped up in the front seat, Pepper had gotten about twenty injured people in the back so the ambulances could stay and help with other people, and then they had sped uptown to the Maria Stark Memorial Hospital that Tony had formally dedicated three days before.

 

He'd ignored the metal pins they'd put in, and had immediately began pouring money into everything.  He paid for hospital bills for those who were injured, financed the funerals of those who hadn't made it and whose families were in no finical state to afford a proper one.  He'd set up a form of widows-and-orphans fund, and a scholarship program for kids who had lost a parent.  Everyone had lauded him, but he didn't want another key to the city.  His only appeal was for the fireman who had rescued him to come forward.  The man never appeared, so Tony was forced to assume he'd been killed.

 

“It . . . was _you_?”  Tony felt himself shaking.

 

“Well, it’s not every day that you carry Tony Stark out of a collapsing skyscraper. I thought you were going to protest, but you cooperated well.  Set a good example.  And you started that fund for the families, and were paying everyone’s medical bills, even in the years afterward.  Without you, Clint wouldn’t have been able to afford his Cochlear implants after the blast made him deaf.  You did a lot more than we ever could with raw muscle.”

 

“I tried to find you. I wanted to track you down to thank you . . . .  Without you I wouldn’t have . . . , and Pepper would have stayed with me . . . .”

 

"I herd you were looking for me, but I didn't feel like I deserved the recognition.  I was just doing what any of the guys would have done."

 

"But I wanted . . . ."

 

Steve took his hand. Like everything else with Steve that Tony had felt over the last hour and a half, it felt comforting and _right_.

 

“Sometimes, things don’t happen the way you want it. I’ve learned a lot about the natural order of things out here.  Sometimes, you need to let the fire burn.”

 

Steve met his eyes, looking like he could read Tony's mind, but still liked him. Tony was about to swoop in, to do something about _this, them_ , when Steve turned back to the road for a moment, gasped and pulled Tony’s face into his shoulder and braced a hand around his neck as the force of the heat wave shattered the windshield.

 

 

 

The wind had finally shifted. The dull roar of the flames were suddenly omnipresent, and everything was black and red.  The fire was burning the road, asphalt cracking and bubbling.

 

Steve didn’t hesitate as he punched out the remaining shards of glass out of the passenger side window. He climbed deftly over Tony, pulling him roughly out behind him.

 

The fire was right on top of them, surrounding the pickup on three sides.  It rolled and made the air warp, bending everything to impossible angles.

 

He grabbed one of the oxygen tanks and his jacket, quickly draping the jacket around Tony’s shoulders and affixing the mask to Tony’s mouth.

 

He was shielding Tony with his body as he shoved them in the opposite direction, yelling hoarsely in his radio for help.

 

After a dazed couple of seconds of Steve man handling him, he shouted over the roar “WE NEED TO GO BACK!”

 

“ARE YOU INSANE?”

 

“YOU NEED OXYGEN TOO!” and Tony tuned back to the truck, with Steve ordering him to “STOP, TONY!  YOU CAN'T-” and ran best as he could back to the truck.

 

The overheated oxygen and gas tanks blew within seconds of each other, and the fireball rushed up to meet him.

 

 

 

His throat felt like someone had forced him to down sulfuric acid. His entire body ached slightly, but it was a detached sort of pain that meant the really good pain killers.  His chest was the worst, with the constant dull sting that reminded him of the feeling of dropping a soldering on his exposed skin.  Oh.  Burns.

 

Something tiny and cold was pressing into his collarbone. There was also a stabbing feeling in his arm, something was beeping in his ear, and his mouth was covered with a mask.  Huh.  Tony reached out a hand to tear it off.  A cool hand stopped him.  “I wouldn’t do that, Tony.”

 

Tony grinned into his oxygen mask. “ ‘Course you wouldn’t, _Brucie_.”

 

Bruce sighed. “We can take the mask off if you promise to wear the nasal cannula, and you promise not to rip it out.”  Tony took that as a sign to start to sluggishly remove the mask, and Bruce stopped him again.   “Promise me, Tony.”

 

“ ‘Romise.”

 

Bruce quickly and efficiently got Tony situated, stopped him from ripping out the IV, and messed with the control settings on the hospital bed so that Tony was propped up so he could see something besides the ceiling.

 

Pepper’s eyes were red rimmed, which for her was a quivering wreak, and Rhodey looked about ready to punch Tony, which meant he was relieved. Bruce looked slightly green under his doctoral detachment, and Tony couldn’t figure out if he was mad or about to throw up.

 

“How are you all?”

 

“You IDIOT!” Pepper screeched, her eyes welling up again as she swooped down to bury her head in his shoulder, as not to disrupt the dressings on his chest. Rhodey silently approached, as he and Tony both tried rubbing and patting her back to try and stop her sobs.

 

“I think I’ve been told I’m an idiot enough for it to sink in the past couple of days, I think it’s set in. Wait, how long was I out?”

 

Pepper gave out a shaky laugh and lowered herself into the bedside chair, while Rhodey looked at Bruce expectantly. Bruce coughed delicately.

 

“About eight hours. You just got out of surgery for skin grafts about fifteen minutes ago.”

 

Rhodey still looked like he was going to strangle Tony when he recovered. “Pepper got a call from the Grossman Burn Center, they said you we suffering from burns and smoke inhalation after the car that you were being evacuated in blew.  She called me and Bruce and we got our asses to Bakersfield.”

 

“Did you steal a jet?”

 

“Helicopter.” They all laughed, tension diffusing, relief that all of them were still themselves.  “Don’t do that again, Tony.  You’re an idiot, but you’re our favorite idiot, and if I didn’t have you to yell at, I would give the cadets coronaries.”

 

“ ‘kay. Scout’s honor.  How bad is it?”

 

Bruce cut in. “You were lucky.  First and second degree burns mostly, with some third degree right on your sternum.  You might need some plastic surgery, but you were very lucky.”

 

“Nah.  It just contributes to the legend of the hot-as-balls Tony Stark.  When can I leave?”

 

Pepper frowned. “You’re not leaving this hospital unless we get you transferred somewhere in LA.  Even then you’re not leaving until a doctor discharges you.  And I don’t mean Bruce.  He doesn’t actively practice medicine.”  She looked at Bruce apologetically, but he nodded in agreement.  Bruce had been telling Tony for years he needed to get comfortable with actual medical professionals, but Tony trusted Bruce and prided himself in being a stubborn, annoying ass.

 

He sighed. “Might be easier just to stay here.  How are the fires doing?”

 

“Mostly under control, but you’re not going back to the house until cleanup’s over.” Rhodey’s glare dared him to question it.

 

The talk of the fire made Tony for the first time realize that Steve wasn’t there.  Anxiety gipped his throat.  It was ridiculous, they barely knew each other.  Steve had a job,  he didn't need to be sitting in a hospital room waiting for him to wake up.  But Tony had felt something far more intense than flames between them, and he had been sure Steve had felt it too.

 

But maybe Steve was here, and Tony was being a selfish jerk as usual.

 

“Where’s Steve?!” His tone came out super panicky, but he was too stressed to care.

 

“Who?”

 

“Steve!” Tony was shouting now, heart monitor spiking, Pepper was pounding the nurses’ call button as Rhodey and Bruce held him down.  “Captain Steve Rogers!  Crew 91!  He was with me!  He needs to be okay!”

 

The other shared a three-way glance.

 

“I’ll ask them,” Pepper said, pressing a kiss to his hair as she marched to meet the harried-looking nurse.

 

 

 

Steve wasn’t in the hospital.

 

As far as they could tell, Steve had returned to his crew after Tony had been picked up by the paramedics.

 

Tony was clutching Steve’s necklace. The doctors had found it around his throat when they had gotten him out of the helicopter ambulance.

 

He’d explained the story once he had calmed down. Pepper was sent into another wave of hysterics, because the guy had saved Tony _twice_ and how could she ever thank him properly.  Rhodey was calling in every favor as a lieutenant colonel in the Air Force to try and get word about the state of Steve’s crew.

 

Rhodey was outside, taking quietly on the phone while Pepper and Bruce sat vigil. The clock ticked and the morphine dripped as Tony heart seemed to squeeze itself into a smaller and smaller ball.

 

They heard a commotion, voices raised, but didn’t move until the door crashed open, and there was Steve, in a identical t-shirt to the one he had been wearing earlier and slacks pulled up to his belly button. He was freshly showered and looked exhausted, but smiled relivedly at Tony’s shout of “Steve!”  Tony tried to get out of the hospital bed, until Steve crossed the room and gently pressed Tony’s shoulders back down.

 

Rhodey was standing in the door way with another man, this one in a soot-stained flight suit.

 

Steve just hovered over Tony, the two of them just grinning at each other. Bruce cleared his throat pointedly, but Tony didn’t care.

 

There were several moments of pure silence.

 

“So,” Rhodey directed at the other guy. “You look like a flier.  What do you do?  Ever been in the Air Force?”

 

“Sam Wilson. Two tours in Afghanistan.  Pararescue.  Now I’m a medical helicopter operator, and a smokejumper when needed.”

 

“That sound fascinating.  Let’s go talk about that. In the cafeteria.  Away from these two.  Bruce, Pepper, come on.”  They all shuffled out awkwardly.  Steve was still leaning over him.

 

After the door shut, Steve sat in Pepper’s chair and cradled Tony’s hand between both of his. They were huge, and vaguely spade-like, and could probably crack someone’s neck, but held Tony’s with up most care, gently rubbing a thumb across the knuckles.

 

“Fair warning, this is probably a really bad idea.”

 

Steve’s smile just grew. “Not the worst, though.”

 

“I’m bad news.”

 

Steve raised Tony’s hand to his mouth, breath ghosting over the palm. “Again, not the worst.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“For what?”

 

“For saving my life. Twice.”

 

“For doing my job.”

 

Tony inhaled sharply as Steve pressed his mouth to Tony’s palm. “You shouldn’t like me.”

 

 “You don’t get to tell me who I get to like.”

 

“Why me?”

 

“Why not?”

 

Steve met Tony’s gaze, looking determined, harsh, and demanding. He dropped Tony’s hand and Tony had to restrain himself from begging _No, put it back, do it again, don’t stop_.  “Maybe the universe is trying to tell us something.”

 

Tony shivered as Steve sat on the edge of the bed and braced his arms on either side of Tony’s head, so all that he could see was chest and shoulders and _Steve_.  The nurse was probably gonna be in there any minute with morphine the way Tony’s heart monitor was going.  It didn’t stop him from winding his arms around Steve’s chest so his hands rested on the bases of Steve’s shoulder blades, feeling the muscle shift under his fingers as Steve’s face got closer.

 

“Don’t tell me you believe in love at first sight.”

 

“This isn’t our first meeting.” Steve wet his lips. “I’m gonna try something.”

 

Tony’s voice was only a whisper. “Okay.”

 

Steve’s eyes slid shut. Their mouths met.  Steve’s was soft, restrained, but pouring _something_ into it so Tony could only melt into it and respond the best he could.

 

Steve broke it off well before Tony was done, but he stayed close, their noses touching.

 

“You’re kinda bein’ a foolhardy idiot,” Tony said breathlessly

 

“Good,” Steve murmured, their lips meeting once again.


End file.
